


The Weight of the Ootori Name

by kurochatchan (RhienMeoita)



Series: The Weight of the Ootori Name [2]
Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But you don't see them in a relationship 'til chapters later (I haven't even written it yet), Child!Kyouya, F/M, For like a chapter, Gen, It's tagged Haruhi/Kyouya, Not Canon Compliant, Yoshio is kinda nice?, child!Haruhi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 15:44:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4711430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhienMeoita/pseuds/kurochatchan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the newest member of the Ootori family—though not in name or blood—Haruhi could not decide whether the Ootori name was beneficial or pernicious. Will she eventually wear it with pride like the other Ootori children and wield it as a sign of strength, or will she succumb to its pressure and allow it to become an oppressive burden? HaruhixKyouya. OOC (?), canon-divergent. Sequel to "Welcome to the Ootori Family."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Weight of the Ootori Name

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone, this is my first fanfiction in the Ouran High School Host Club fandom. I actually started working on this fic late November 2013 and on and off until March 2014. Life got in the way, but I had the prequel and five chapters done. 
> 
> Unbetaed. And I might go edit this again when I am actively working on this, but right now, I am more focused on my other Ouran two-shot, unpublished piece that is two scenes from finishing.
> 
> Anyhow, thank you for reading. I absolutely adore this chapter (it's prolly my best one), and I hope you will enjoy it too.

* * *

“Ootori-sama, your father is requesting your presence in his study,” a maid announced with a bow after knocking on the already opened door.

A young boy looked up from the book he was reading, the pair of glasses he wore producing a sharp glare as a result of the change in angle. He was sitting in a black, top quality leather armchair in a pair of black loose-fitted dress pants and perfectly pressed, white dress shirt—all of which enhanced the elegance he naturally emitted. He quickly hid the flash of curiosity he felt from the odd request and curtly nodded.

The maid retreated with a bow.

 _I wonder what father wants. I did not realize he was back from his trip already._ The boy stood up, slipped a bookmark in his book on the end table and adjusted the book’s position to ensure it was completely straight. A curt look at the mirror revealed a slight ruffle in his hair and a wrinkle in his shirt. The boy huffed and immaculately fixed his appearance so that nothing—absolutely nothing—was out of place. Once he was done, he left the room and navigated to his father’s study. Checking his appearance one last time from a nearby reflective surface, he gave the door a swift knock.

“Come in,” an imposing voice commanded.

The boy opened the door, slipping inside the room and closing the door behind him. He bowed at the figure (at the perfect thirty degrees) sitting on the office chair behind the wooden desk. “Father.”

“Kyouya,” the man greeted in return. He wore a professionally tailored suit that complemented his aura: austere and forceful. Much like his son, the father, Ootori Yoshio, wore a pair of thin-framed glasses that glared with a subtle change of angle and lighting, and black, organized hair—shortly cropped in his case.

“Why am I here, father?I was unaware of your return.” Kyouya’s face was smooth and detached while his tone was formal and respectful, a trait that is demanded when conversing with his father. They might be kin, but their relationship is professional and unemotional. His father had expectations, and his job as the third son of the Ootori family was to meet it—exceed it even—with flying colors and possibly impress his father even more than the high standard precedent that his two older brothers already set. This competition and rivalry between brothers had been present long before he was even born. His father staunchly supported the advantages of competition, after all.

“My business trip had to end prematurely,” Yoshio offered with no further explanation. “The reason for your presence is to introduce someone to you. Haruhi, please come out.”

A girl, who could not be older than him, slowly appeared from behind Yoshio’s chair, giving Kyouya a wave of shock. The girl had chestnut brown, straight, mid-back length hair and an accompanying pair of chocolate brown, doe eyes. She was dressed in a form-fitting black dress with ruffles on the borders. The girl’s eyes were downcast as she bowed at Kyouya. “It is nice to meet you, Ootori-sama.”

“Likewise.” Kyouya stifled his surprise long enough to bow in response.

“Kyouya, this is Fujioka Haruhi, and she is to be your companion and personal attendant until I decide otherwise. Although she is responsible for taking care of you in some aspects, she is _not_ a maid or servant. Your treatment should resemble that of a friend’s.” Yoshio’s decree does not allow room for argument.

 _Where in the world did father get her? I did not believe child trafficking was part of the Ootori business—was I mistaken?_ Kyouya stood stock still as he processed this new information.

Upon prolonged silence, Yoshio called out, “Kyouya?”

Kyouya shook his head, clearing his mind. “Yes… yes, of course, father.”

Yoshio nodded before pressing a button on the desk’s command control.

Instantly, a voice from the speaker questioned, “Yes, Ootori-sama?”

“Send a maid in.”

“Yes, Ootori-sama.”

Within a minute, someone knocked and opened the door. The maid entered and bowed. “Ootori-sama.”

“Bring Haruhi to the suite next to Kyouya’s and help her settle in. Then, provide her with a clothing and furniture catalogue, and help her place the orders once she is done,” Yoshio ordered, and the maid nodded in comprehension. Turning to Haruhi, he continued in a softer tone, “Haruhi, order whatever you want and need; make yourself as comfortable as possible, alright?” Haruhi shyly nodded. “And if you have anything else you need, simply tell Ito-san over there.”

Haruhi nodded again and opened her mouth but closed it the next second. A tinge of red spread over her cheeks.

Seeing her indecision, Yoshio prompted, “Haruhi, child, what is it?”

“Um… would… would it be okay if I got a catalogue for books too?” Haruhi’s hesitation is furthered by her fiddling fingers, nearly silent voice and downturned face.

Yoshio’s right hand extended to lift up Haruhi’s face, forcing her to meet his eyes.

 _What is father doing? Why didn’t he just scold her with a “Stop hesitating”? Why is he behaving so… so soft?_ Disbelief swirled around Kyouya’s head, and a flicker of jealousy ignited in his heart before he swiftly stomped on it, smothering it into a pile of ashes. There is absolutely no need for affection from his father. He is stronger and better because of his father’s general apathy and demands of flawlessness. So there is no reason. Absolutely no reason.

At the sound of his father’s voice, Kyouya left his internal monologue.

Yoshio attempted to look warmer and gentler, but he doubted he was anywhere near successful. “Of course it is okay. Remember what I said on the ride here? Anything. And I am very pleased that you chose books over other frivolous objects you could have chosen.”

“Thank you, Ootori-sama.” A small smile appeared on Haruhi’s face.

Satisfied, Yoshio subtly pushed Haruhi toward the maid. “Now, go.”

Haruhi nodded and hurriedly walk to the maid, accepting her outstretched hand. Quietly, she greeted the maid with a bow, “Nice to meet you, Ito-san. Please take care of me.”

“Fujioka-sama, you are too kind. I am Ito Yuko, and it is my pleasure to meet you. Let’s go now,” Yuko responded with a formal bow. Turning to Yoshio, Yuko bowed again. “Goodbye, Ootori-sama.”

Haruhi nodded before turning back toward Yoshio. With a bow, she said, “Thank you very much, Ootori-sama.”

Yoshio nodded in acknowledgment.

Then, Haruhi dutifully followed the maid’s lead and left the room, causing a blanket of silence to descend on the room, and Kyouya had no desire to initiate the awaiting conversation even with his burning curiosity. And so, he glanced at everywhere but his father. His father’s gaze was like a magnet though, and it was definitely tiring to resist that pull.

A considerable amount of time passed before Yoshio finally ended the silence with a “Kyouya.”

Kyouya released a minute sigh. “Yes, father?”

“I am sure you have many inquiries for me about Haruhi,” Yoshio stated with expectance.

Kyouya nodded in agreement. It would not do him any good to deny his curiosity since it would just start a battle of wiles and wills that would require much more time and energy than Kyouya was willing to expend at that moment. His father would eventually tell him anyways.

“As you well know, I left for a business trip to Kyoto four days ago.” At Kyouya’s nod, Yoshio continued, “However, I never quite made it to Kyoto or the airport for that matter. On the way to the airport, my driver drove through a red light and ran into a man crossing the street. My driver apparently consumed more alcohol than he should have the night before and did not receive an adequate amount of sleep, so he fell asleep at the wheel while drunk. Due to the speed of the car, the man suffered irreparable injuries, and he was dead by the time the ambulance arrived.  The man’s name was Fujioka Ryouji, and he was returning home after a night’s work at the bar.” Kyouya’s eyes widened in realization. “Yes, Kyouya, Haruhi is Fujioka-san’s daughter. Fujioka-san’s wife died a year ago, and Haruhi’s grandparents are either estranged or have passed away, so Fujioka-san was Haruhi’s only family. The police contacted most of their distant relatives, but none of them were willing to adopt Haruhi. I looked into Haruhi’s background and discovered her impeccable academic records. Hence, since I felt responsible for her father’s death, it is only reasonable that I adopt her instead of giving her to the foster care system and wasting her potential.”

“And how did Fujioka-san react to her father’s death and your subsequent adoption?” Kyouya’s mind was reeling from the amount of information he just received. _Why would father adopt her even with her lamentable situation? It is unlike him._

“She was traumatized and grief-stricken, as was expected. However, she did not shed a single tear, and was fairly calm, reasonable and responsive. She was confused as to why I would adopt her as well.”

“Why did you adopt her?”

“She has a charming personality and a prodigious potential to succeed. It would be a shame to waste her talents.” Although Yoshio’s words appeared to be honest, the glint in his eyes revealed his withholding of information.

“That has never prompted you adopt anyone before, father,” Kyouya pointed out. His father was not the type of man to do anything unless it warrants merit. Haruhi does seem to harbor some merit, just not enough. “What is the real reason?”

Yoshio stared at his son. “Even if there is some other reason, it does not involve you.”

That was his father’s way of saying, “Shut up. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” Thus, knowing it would do more harm than good to pursue the subject, Kyouya redirected the conversation. “What is the fate of your driver?”

A merciless smirk appeared on Yoshio’s face. “18 years in prison, 50 million yen in fine and 40 thousand yen in tickets.”

“And his family?”

“They are none of your concern.”

Kyouya narrowed his eyes but nodded in acquiesce. “Does she know about your connection to the driver?”

“Of course. I have explained to her the cause of her father’s death as well.”

“What are your plans for Fujioka-san?”

“Although I have adopted her, she will not take on the Ootori name; I am only her guardian in the eyes of the law. Nonetheless, I will be hiring the most outstanding tutors for her. In addition to the core subjects, she will be taught various foreign languages, etiquette, martial arts and anything else that she shows an interest in. I am planning to enroll her at the Morinozuka or Haninozuka dojo, maybe both.”

“Are you considering her as your successor?” Kyouya asked with an uneasy look—a logical question considering the fact that Yoshio was giving Haruhi an education that will be on par with, if not above of, most heir and heiress’. It was bad enough that he has to compete against his two older brothers, but his father is adding an unknown girl into the mix now? As a believer of meritocracy, father has shown no predilection towards gender in regards to his successor—Fuyumi simply has no desire to be the successor—so Haruhi is just as likely to become his father’s successor as him and his brothers, even if she is not an Ootori in name.

To Kyouya’s surprise, Yoshio chuckled. “No. Of course not. From what I understand, Haruhi wants to be an attorney like her mother, so I am just helping her pave the way. She is to be both your companion and bodyguard, so she must have the adequate education to be by your side.”

Now that the threat of a new rival dissipated, Kyouya allowed his worry and caution to show through his mask. “Are you sure Fujioka-san is competent enough to complete the provided education and acquire the skills to be my bodyguard?”

“Who knows? But I have confidence in her, so I hope she will not disappoint me,” Yoshio stated.

Kyouya stared at his father in disbelief. _He is expressing his confidence in a mere commoner? Why? What does she have that his own sons and daughter do not?_ Recognizing his jealousy, Kyouya promptly squashed down those feelings. There is no reason to feel jealous over a nobody—especially someone who just lost her only living parent. However, Kyouya was helpless when his thoughts returned to the subtle praise his father gave that girl. He simply could not understand the reason for his father’s peculiar behavior. It is as though that girl is more of his child than his actual children. _Why?_

“And if she does?” Kyouya wasn’t sure what prompted that question, but he couldn’t deny how much he wanted the girl to disappoint his father. Then, maybe, his father will return to normal—well, normal by his standards anyways.

Yoshio raised an eyebrow, as if the mere possibility of that happening was inconsequential. “Let’s hope it will not come to that.”

Kyouya nodded as he absentmindedly fixed his glasses. _His hopes in that girl are so high. Why?_

“Father, does the rest of the family know?”

“Not yet, I am planning to announce Haruhi’s presence at tonight’s dinner.”

 _So mother is unaware of her new daughter? Will she accept Fujioka-san or will she be indifferent?_ Kyouya contemplated his mother’s reaction and then the rest of his family’s. _Yuuichi-niisan will be unconcerned, Akito-niisan will be cautious and scrutinizing, and Fuyumi-neesan will be joyful and excited. What about me? How should I act?_

Kyouya was broken out of his contemplations by his father. “Are there any other inquiries, Kyouya?”

“No, father. Not at the current moment.” Kyouya’s eyes met his father’s mirthful ones. Wait. Mirthful? Kyouya blinked his eyes in rapid succession and met his father’s eyes once more. They were calm and apathetic. _I must have been mistaken. I must have._

Yoshio nodded. “Then, you are dismissed. Do try to get along with Haruhi. After all, she is to accompany you often from now on.”

“Yes, father.” Without further ado, Kyouya bowed—another perfect 30 degree bow—and exited the room.

With his eyes trained on Kyouya’s leaving form, Yoshio’s eyes turned mirthful once more—no, Kyouya was not mistaken—and he could barely suppress a chuckle. _Kyouya, you are such an open book. One of the reasons I adopted Haruhi was because she reminded me of you, my jealous child._

* * *

 

 _Father is expecting me to get along with her, a girl he seems to favor more than his children? I am not sure if I can even accept her, let alone get along with her. If I cannot, then I will just have to fake it. I_ am _awfully good at that. Moreover, it would not hurt to interfere with her studies. Why does father expect so much from her anyways? It is not as though she warrants much merit even if she succeeds. If she does become a lawyer like she wants, what use do we have of her? We already have a top-notch team of lawyers at every branch of the Ootori Corporation, and there are plenty more top-notch lawyers that would run with their tail between their legs to be an Ootori lawyer if the need arises. So—_

Before Kyouya could finish his rant, he was interrupted by the voice of the one he has been belittling.

“Thank you very much, Ito-san. And please do not refer to me as ‘-sama’. I do not deserve such a title.” Haruhi’s voice flitted from the nearby suite. It was only then that Kyouya realized he was already near his suite, and if not for Haruhi’s voice, he would have walked right past his room. Kyouya huffed in irritation. That girl was already too much trouble.

Glancing between the closed door of his suite and the slightly ajar door of Haruhi’s suite, he decided that it would be beneficial to properly introduce himself to Haruhi and spend some alone time with her. It is what his father requested, after all. _It is not as if I am trying to see what is so special about this girl. No, definitely not. Just a harmless, little greeting. Yes, that is all this will be._

“Fujioka-sama, I would be reprimanded if I were to refer to you as anything but what you station entitles,” Yuko responded.

“And I am just a simple, little girl who does not warrant the ‘-sama’ title.”

It was obvious to Kyouya that this is the opportunity he was looking for to interrupt without looking like he has been eavesdropping.  Kyouya pushed open the door and stepped into the room. “You obviously do not realize your station if you seriously think you are still a simple, little girl.”

Haruhi looked up from her sitting position on the couch, surprised. She sprung to her feet and hastily bowed to Kyouya. “Ootori-sama.”

In a much more dignified and poised manner, Yuko, who was standing by the couch and facing Haruhi, turned to Kyouya, bowed and smoothly greeted, “Ootori-sama.”

Kyouya nodded, giving the room a sweep—it was identical to a customary guest room except for a few items, which he assumed to be Haruhi’s, here and there—before meeting Haruhi’s wary eyes. “I am assuming you are settling in just fine, right, Fujioka-san?”

“Yes. Ito-san has been very helpful.”

Kyouya made a noise of satisfaction. Turning to Yuko, whose face was still downturned, Kyouya asked, “Are you finished here, Ito-san?”

“Yes, Ootori-sama, I have already assisted Fujioka-sama in placing orders for the furniture, and will place the orders on the books and clothes tomorrow after Fujioka-sama has a chance to look at it,” Yuko replied, already understanding what Kyouya was about to request.

“Then, I would like a private audience with Fujioka-san.”

“Yes, Ootori-sama.” Facing Haruhi, Yuko added, “I will return when it is time to prepare you for dinner. If you have any additional questions or requests before then, please press that button I told you about, and I or another maid will come to your assistance right away.”

“Thank you, Ito-san.” Haruhi’s gratitude was accompanied by a bow.

Yuko bowed deeper in return, turned to Kyouya, and bowed again before leaving the room and closing the door on her way out.

Once the door closed, Kyouya began, “As I was saying, you should be more conscientious of your new status, Fujioka-san. The Ootori family, one of the most prominent families in Japan, has adopted you, so you are considered just as superior as my siblings and me. There are strict rules in the Ootori household that the servants abide to, just as there are strict rules for the Ootori children to adhere. You will do well to learn them soon.”

A dust of red decorated Haruhi’s cheeks as her head tilted downwards. “Of course, Ootori-sama.”

Kyouya marched up to Haruhi and lifted her head up, forcing her to meet his eyes, similar to his father’s earlier actions. However, there was not a hint of gentleness in Kyouya’s actions. “Fujioka-san, you might be my companion, but you are not a servant. I expect you to look at me when you are talking to me. You must stand tall and talk clearly. If I needed someone subservient, I can just call on one of the maids. Understood?”

Haruhi swiftly nodded. “Yes, Ootori-sama.”

Kyouya removed his hand, returning it to its place by his side. “And there are too many Ootori-sama in this house, so please refer to me as ‘Kyouya’, especially since we are constantly going to be in each other’s presence.”

“Yes, Kyouya-sama.”

Kyouya shook his head in an amused fashion. “You do know how to say something besides my name and affirmatives, right?”

“Of course—” Haruhi’s cheeks reddened completely. “Sorry, I am just a little nervous. You upper class people are simply too hard to deal with.” As if Kyouya’s words were the catalyst to a metamorphosis, Haruhi’s entire demeanor changed from a formal knot to a pent up mess. Haruhi flopped down, face first, onto the couch, causing her voice to be slightly muffled. “You guys have servants and opulence and goodness; I think this couch is worth more than my old apartment!”

Kyouya’s eyes widened in shock and confusion. Were his eyes tricking him again?

At his lack of response, Haruhi’s face reappeared and tilted towards Kyouya. “Hello? Are you alright?”

“Y-yes. Of course. I was just surprised by your outburst; that is all.” Kyouya shook himself out of his stupor. He sat down next to Haruhi’s feet, making sure there were several inches between his thigh and her feet.

Haruhi’s face lit up in amusement as she sat up. “I’m just a commoner, if you can’t recall. Just four days ago, I was living in a relatively small apartment with my daddy, who was an okama, by the way. This is a shock.”

Kyouya’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “Your father was an okama?”

Haruhi nodded with a grin. “Yeah, he was.”

Kyouya stared at Haruhi with disbelief and confusion as he contemplated this new piece of information and her drastic change in behavior. _Why does she seem so cheerful, even though her father recently passed away? And her father was an okama? Doesn’t that mean he dressed up as a woman and worked at a gay bar? Why didn’t father inform me of this? Did he know? Of course he did, he is father; he knows everything. Wouldn’t it cause a scandal if the press discovered that father adopted the daughter of an okama?_

Before Kyouya could finish his train of thought, his vision was bombarded with a hand flying up and down. Kyouya blinked to refocus his vision and upon realizing it was Haruhi’s hand in front of his eyes, he turned to face said girl. “Yes?”

Haruhi retracted her hand and glumly stated, “You probably think my daddy is a weirdo now, don’t you?”

Kyouya was unsure of the appropriate response, so he just went with the first thing that came to his mind. “If your father was an okama, why does he have a daughter?”

Haruhi giggled at his question. “Because he loved mommy, of course! She was apparently the only woman that he ever loved.”

“Do you miss her?” _Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why did I ask that?_

Right away, Haruhi became more subdued. “Yes, I do. Every day.”

“That was insensitive of me. I am sorry.”

Haruhi shrugged and peered out the nearby window, placing her hands underneath her thighs.

A tinge of guilt blossomed in Kyouya’s mind. “Are you feeling alright?” _That was an even more idiotic question. Of course she is not alright! She just lost her father!_

Haruhi shook her head in negation. “No, not at all. I feel like I will burst out crying if I even let my mind ponder on the mere fact that I will not see my father anymore or that he will not fret over me anymore. I saw him just the night before, and he was praising how much he loved my cooking and how happy he was to have such an adorable daughter. But now… he is gone. And he will never return home.”

Kyouya was speechless as more guilt entered his mind. _Why was I feeling so ill-willed towards her? She never did anything wrong. Actually, we are the ones who did her wrong—even if the driver was the actual culprit. However, if father never had that business trip or if father used another driver that morning or if father realized his driver had been drinking, her father would still be living. She has been a mere victim of absolutely unfortunate circumstances, and here I am, attempting to sabotage her future. My father might be a cold-hearted bastard at times and my mother might be constantly absent, but they are still breathing and living. I have no right to feel jealous of her._

And so, Kyouya helplessly watched as Haruhi struggled to keep her emotions in check, unsure of what to say or do. _How do I comfort someone? Think, think, Kyouya, you must have read about it somewhere!_ Soon, an article about hugging and condolences appeared at the forefront of Kyouya’s mind. _That’s right, hugging! I can do that, can’t I? How do I hug someone again?_ A picture of Fuyumi with her arms wrapped around him made itself known. _Ah, that must be it. Hugging! Fuyumi-neesan does that to me all the time. It is easy. I just have to put my arms around her. But do I just leave it there afterwards? Or do I bring her closer to me? Also, how long would I leave my arms around her? …I must not underestimate Fuyumi-neesan’s capabilities from now on._

Stiffly, Kyouya lifted his arms, shifted closer to Haruhi, and brought his arms around Haruhi’s frame. Once Kyouya made contact with Haruhi, he allowed his arms to tighten its grip. Haruhi’s figure tensed but in the next second, all the tension dissipated, and she swung around, burrowing her head into Kyouya’s chest. She tightly gripped onto the lapels of Kyouya’s shirt as sounds of broken, muffled sobs released into the air. Kyouya’s arms hung in mid-air, unsettled by the domino effect his actions seemed to have caused. _Think, think, what would Fuyumi-neesan do in this situation?_ The answer was obvious: she would wrap her arms around Haruhi’s figure, refusing to let her go. Kyouya did just that. He pulled Haruhi farther into his chest and placed his head on top of Haruhi’s head, making soothing noises that instinctively came to him and rubbing Haruhi’s back with his right hand every once in a while.

The two children sat like that for an indeterminable amount of time. Haruhi’s sobs eventually turned into sniffles and hiccups. Kyouya began petting Haruhi’s hair with closed eyes. When Haruhi’s hiccups stopped, she looked up and whispered, “I’m sorry for ruining your shirt, Kyouya-sama.”

With a small, but sincere smile, Kyouya said, “I will forgive you, just this once. Also, I think we are beyond the frigidness of ‘-sama,’ you can either refer to me with ‘-kun’ or nothing.”

A little giggle escaped Haruhi’s mouth. “Thank you, Kyouya-kun. Please don’t refer to me as ‘Fujioka’ or with ‘-san.’ Like you said, with my snot and tears all over your shirt, we are beyond those titles.”

Kyouya chuckled. “Of course, Haruhi-kun.”

“Not that I mind, but why are you using ‘-kun’ instead of ‘-chan’?” Haruhi’s eyebrow rose at that.

“I, nor do any Ootori for that matter, except for Fuyuumi-neesan maybe, do not refer to anyone with ‘-chan’. It defies every fiber of my being,” Kyouya stated matter-of-factly, as though she was foolish for even thinking otherwise.

Haruhi rolled her eyes at that and finally pulled away from Kyouya’s embrace. “By the way, Kyouya-kun, was that the first time you have ever initiated a hug?”

Kyouya froze as a blush lightly powdered his face. “O-of course not.”

“It was, wasn’t it? You can’t lie to me. I am a hugging recipient expert. Daddy and mommy used to hug me all the time, I can tell whether someone is used to hugging someone,” Haruhi explained in a playful tone with a smug smile. “Well, you didn’t do badly for your first time, if that was what you were wondering. It would have been better though if your arms weren’t as stiff as they were when you initiated the hug.”

Kyouya glared at Haruhi. _No one makes fun of an Ootori, ever. She should be more grateful anyways! If not for me, she would not have been able to release her pent-up emotions and have a catharsis—neverminding the fact that I was the one who basically provoked her to cry in the first place._

Haruhi laughed at his reaction. “Don’t look so pouty.”

“Ootori do _not_ pout!” Kyouya adamantly stated with an intensified glare. _I take whatever I thought back; she is definitely a nuisance. I should resume my plan to eliminate her presence in the Ootori household._

 _…But her laughing face is kind of cute, I guess._ Kyouya sighed in defeat. _I suppose I will tolerate her presence. She is interesting, that is for sure._

“Sure, sure, _Ootori-sama_ , whatever you say,” Haruhi flippantly patronized.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Though “-kun” is typically used for guys, it can also be used for girls.
> 
> I am on Tumblr (kurochatchan), feel free to come say hi. It's a dump for my other fics and plotbunnies, it's multi-fandom, and I reblog or post other stuff occasionally.


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